


i say your name but you’re not around

by angelica_barnes



Series: You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, loving someone even when it's difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: zayn doesn't deal with people very well.he hates himself.he wishes the day was over.he wishes all the days were over, so then he could finally sleep.(or, zayn's pov.)





	i say your name but you’re not around

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "Don't Let Me Down" by Daya

Zayn wakes up in a cold sweat, hair matted to his forehead, and he has the brief thought that it’s getting too long, but soon he’s thinking of other things. His heart beats too fast, and he kisses Liam’s forehead soft and quick, whispering that he loves the man before scrambling up and rushing to and fro, packing a suitcase that he should’ve have gone and taken long ago.

He’s in the bathroom, loading the toiletries into a plastic bag, when he accidentally looks up and catches sight of himself in the mirror; his mind betrays him before he can stop it.  _ You’re not good enough _ , it whispers,  _ what kind of man are you for leaving him, he’s done nothing. Nothing, absolutely nothing at all. _

Liam’s strong arms wrap around him from behind and he gasps, leaning back into the man’s chest, heart still beating frantically. “You should eat something before we go,” Liam says softly, and Zayn feels like crying at the gentleness in his voice.

 

 

-

 

Zayn stares at his plate, pretty plain white, covered by eggs and bacon and other fattening things that he doesn’t want to eat. He begins to absentmindedly clear a space on the plate for no reason. Soon only white is staring up at him, and the screeching of utensils against dishware doesn’t faze him.

Liam looks up at him, and the constant sound of his chewing stops - Zayn doesn’t notice. He keeps working, a clean spot, an undisturbed little clearing, that’s all he wants to find in this forest of food, which seems to grow the more he glances at it. Faster, faster, over and over he repeats the raking with his fork until Liam’s voice breaks him from it, and he shakes with unsteadiness, feeling all too out of place in his seat.

“I didn’t poison them, sweetie,” Liam murmurs, and Zayn feels tears brim in his eyes, but he keeps his head down. He nods still, in a way of reply, but he can feel Liam’s worried energy radiating off of him. But the younger, taller, stronger man says no more.

Zayn sort of wishes he would, but at the same time, it feels a danger to snap the silence in half again.

 

 

-

 

Down the hallway, that’s as far as he has to make it. He waits, patiently, he thinks. The click of the key turning in the lock, and Liam stands up straight again, reaching out for Zayn, but the raven-haired man is too caught up in his own paranoia to notice.

They begin the journey. With each step, Zayn feels his self-esteem and confidence waver, tremble, until they crumble and the bricks of the dam keeping in his flood of emotions in is broken, the perfectly carved stones falling with alarming speed into the bottomless canyon that is his soul.

He can’t hold on much longer, he’s already falling but he’s still got a grip with two fingers, and that soon too will fail. He can feel them slipping, and he flails, thrashing, as he looks around and around for something to grab onto. He finds Liam’s hand amongst the chaotic mess within his spinning head, and he clings to the other man’s side in fear of his own life. Liam smiles down at him, and it feels completely uncalled for, considering the circumstances.

“I love you, darling,” Liam whispers to him, sweet and kind and obviously not true, and Zayn has no idea why he’s letting Liam use him - that is what he’s doing, is it not? No one could actually want him, with his scars and irrational mind, and Zayn starts to lose his hold so he grasps Liam tighter, and the younger man smiles worriedly.

Zayn pays no mind, staring straight ahead at the elevator they’re about to step into; one foot forward. One foot back. One foot in front of the other, a dance across the carpeted floor, and he’ll make it. He’s gotten this far, the moving metal box on puppet strings is merely another frightening adventure.

Much like the walk down the hallway.

 

 

-

 

The stage lights are blinding, much as Liam’s smile is; it robs him of vision, at least when it comes to smart decisions. Zayn finds himself looking out at people, faceless people, rows and rows of them gathered in one place, like a mannequin warehouse. 

_ They’re not real,  _ he tells himself, whipping his head hysterically from side to side, trying to see past them; he needs solid ground and his feet can’t seem to find it, what they’re standing on. Screams of his name, all different voices, and he backs away slowly with wild eyes.

_ Gone,  _ he thinks,  _ I need them gone, gone, gone…  _ But they rush right back, and he chokes on his own spit and breath, until he finds himself in a corner with nowhere else to run, and the facelesses are coming closer; they haven’t moved at all.

A hand touches his arm suddenly and he jumps in surprise, Liam’s there, it’s Liam. Liam Liam Liam, Liam. Zayn flings himself into the man’s arms before suddenly pulling back all too quickly and he wants  _ warmth _ , dammit. Security.

But Liam doesn’t let him go, eyes concerned but a soft smile masks his stress; “Baby, they adore you.”

Zayn makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, managing to stifle it just in time for his solo, and Liam keep his arm around Zayn’s waist for most of the night.

Zayn doesn’t protest, though his mouth is dry when they arrive at the hotel and he says not one word, only retiring to bed after walking in the door.

 

 

-

 

They’re supposed to be at the signing, the one that’s been on the calendar for months but they all forgot about, as usual. Zayn blinks his eyes open slowly, sleepily, taking in his surroundings; he feels calm and peaceful, if only for the one completely silent morning.

He hears rustling next to him and rolls over, to be greeted with the sight of Liam, in all his exhausted beauty, and Zayn trails a shaking finger down the outline of the other man’s jaw. 

Suddenly the door busts open and he shoots up, Liam too, with a shout, and Harry and Louis stand there, yelling and motioning for them to come on, get moving, and they all dress in less than presentable outfits but at this point the officials just want them to be on time.

They arrive and it’s flashing lights again, cameras and shouts and overbearingness, and Liam keeps him close. Zayn says nothing, to any of the fans, presuming a nod of the head or a shake when appropriate, because that’s all they’re required to do, it says so in the contract.

Liam’s hand rests on his beneath the table, and suddenly Esme appears and they all sigh in relief, but she only sends them an apologetic, worried smile before disappearing with Niall, weaving her way through bodyguards and crazed fans. Zayn grips Liam’s hand tighter, squeezing as he’d like to each of these girls’ necks, and Liam looks at him in alarm, the squeak of a pen tip moving fastly against glossed paper too shrill to cause his ears any idea of mercy.

It’s too loud.

“What is it, Zee?” Liam asks, and Zayn misses the pet names, the darlings and dears and loves and honeys, the ones saved for away from the public’s eyes, but he needs them now, needs Liam now.

He doesn’t look up though, a million thoughts fluttering around in his head, so he can’t think of what exactly it is that’s been bothering him so.

Liam purses his lips in a frown, yet another anxious one, and Zayn shudders in the chill of those warm chocolate eyes leaving him.

Under the table, Liam squeezes back.

 

 

-

 

Their voices are loud. As are the cries, the ones Zayn are sure belong to Harry, and he winces and cringes and flinches with each new insult thrown by Louis. He once again wishes the walls weren’t so paper thin.

Liam watches him, love and care and nervousness in his expression, and Zayn can’t bring himself to truly look, he can truly see enough. Liam reaches out and caresses his face, and Zayn fights to keep his quavering fists beneath the blanket and out of sight. At his sides, crunched together, away from Liam and doing harm.

Not that he could do much with his measly strength, his weak frame.

Zayn can feel himself bending, stretching, so as to hide within an armored suit of his own scarred skin, feeling as if the words meant for someone else were aimed towards him, a brandished weapon.

Soon he can’t see at all, too afraid to remove his arms from in front of his face, his eyes nearly glued shut with the force of which he keeps them closed. He shakes, he quivers, he trembles, and still the shouts remain, taunting, yelling, insulting and loud and all too real.

Gentle hands suddenly touch him, and he yelps in surprise but doesn’t jump, only lets loose a sob as Liam pulls him impossibly closer, to his chest, and Zayn takes comfort in the steady sound of Liam’s heartbeat.

“It’s okay, you’re fine. You’re fine, love, fine.”

Liam says the words softly, over and over, again and again, and Zayn collapses into doubt and comfort and murmuring thoughts;  _ Too close, too close, too close. _

 

 

-

 

He never falls asleep. 

Liam doesn’t either, his breathing too fast and erratic to be in dreams, and every once in awhile he’ll uncurl his fingers from fists and brush them through Zayn’s hair, or grip his sides tighter in the ticklish spots, and Zayn presses himself closer when that happens, because he’s scared too.

_ Hold on,  _ he wants to say.  _ Hold on to me. _

Apparently he doesn’t need to say it out loud though, because Liam does, even as the seconds stretch into minutes that stretch into hours, and the daylight lays itself to rest with the sun and there’s no moon on this cloudy night, and no stars.

It’s dark. Dark black beauty.

Silent, too.

At last his eyes adjust, and Liam has stopped speaking, probably in fear of the shadows as Zayn is, but Zayn mumbles something anyway, as if to test the monsters. It’s to test Liam, really, to see if he’s still there and awake and listening and  _ real _ , and Liam softly whispers, “What was that, baby?”

The yelling’s stopped, it did a few minutes ago. Zayn’s glad, but the noiselessness is somehow scarier. He doesn’t want to repeat it, to tempt the creepy-crawlies that are surely waiting with open ears and sharp teeth beneath the bed, for their feet to land on the ground and be devoured.

He doesn’t lift his head but the words escape his lips anyway, still quiet, still soft, but he says them, is the thing.

“I don’t want what happened to Harry and Louis to happen to us.”

He can hear Liam’s silence, it comes first as the words sink in, and then it’s over and he’s understood; he sighs.

Zayn bites his lip.

A cricket chirps.

“Me neither. Me neither.”


End file.
